


You Need Only Believe

by TheMoments (TBs_LMC)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bisexual Cullen Rutherford, Bull's Chargers, Canon Gay Character, Divine Leliana (Dragon Age), Established Relationship, M/M, Magisterium (Dragon Age), Magisters, Marriage Proposal, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Rings, Romantic Fluff, Skyhold (Dragon Age), Solas is Fen'Harel (Dragon Age), Sweet Cullen Rutherford, Sweet Dorian Pavus, Tevinter Imperium (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29542659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TBs_LMC/pseuds/TheMoments
Summary: For the past year the Inquisition has, as promised, been Divine Victoria’s peacekeeping force. For the past three years, Cullen and Dorian have been happily together, and have remained at Skyhold as their efforts to fight Solas truly begin. But Dorian will soon have to leave for Tevinter or forfeit his seat in the Magisterium and the specter of separation is not something Cullen can abide.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	You Need Only Believe

**YOU NEED ONLY BELIEVE**

* * *

It was during quiet moments such as this, when the world still slept and Cullen leaned against the battlement wall watching the sun rise, steaming cup of tea in hand, that he could contemplate how strange his life had been.

That he he and others had suffered terribly for what he endured during his years as a Templar was unnecessary to state openly, for all who should know of it, did. That he had found himself with his own command, his own soldiers, his own tower and the respect and loyalty of every man and woman both reporting to him and as peers, was nothing short of the type of miracle he’d not thought possible back when he’d finally been released from the demon’s magical prison back at Kinloch.

That he had found love? Highly improbable.

Soft hands with stave-forged callouses on their palms slid up his sides beneath his shirt, a bit chilly on his skin, making him shiver.

Five years ago, Dorian Pavus had burst into the Skyhold War Room like a blazing sun mixed with the cool touch of a fresh spring breeze. The moment their eyes had met, Cullen had felt such longing that it was very much all he could do not to double over from the force of it, striking him as it had like a bolt of lightning from the very heavens.

Being showered with constant, never-fading affection in such a tender way that it hurt _all_ the time to count those emotions as being both his and for him, was at times as overwhelming as the lyrium withdrawal had been that first year after he’d stopped taking it. And yet like the very air he breathed, he found he could no longer live unless he inhaled Dorian in every possible moment that he was both awake and asleep.

“I thought you still to be abed,” Cullen murmured as full, soft lips kissed the nape of his neck. He hummed, happily leaning back into his lover’s embrace. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“What woke me was your absence, _amatus_ ,” Dorian purred into his ear. “You know how I loathe these cold mountain mornings without your incredibly never-ending body heat keeping me warm.”

Cullen smiled, put his cup down on the wall, turned and embraced the mage fully, arms slithering around the body he’d come to know by touch even moreso than sight, as perhaps a blind man would. Their lips crashed together, neither ever seeming sated despite having been sharing every part of their minds, hearts, bodies and lives with each other for the past three years.

Long, long minutes passed until at last the little gasps of air when one or the other decided breathing was needed simply wasn’t enough. Their foreheads came together as warm puffs of visible breaths commingled.

“I don’t wish to go.” Tears filled Dorian’s eyes, as always happened when he spoke of this.

“Then don’t.”

Dorian sighed, taking Cullen’s face in his hands and stroking loving thumbs across cold-ruddied cheeks. The conversation had been repeated many, many times since the death of Halward Pavus. Dorian had delayed returning to Tevinter as long as he could, attempting to participate remotely through Maevaris, but the Magisterium’s patience was at an end. Either he had to leave within the next fortnight and make the month-long journey back to his homeland, or he would be forced to abdicate the seat that his father had bequeathed him.

Cullen had no delusions about fairy tales and happy endings. But he felt he had a viable alternative to such in the gift of sorts that had sat heavy in his pocket all morning, since he’d arisen the moment the runner had quietly tapped him on the shoulder to advise that Dagna had completed what he’d asked for and requested he come to inspect it.

He may not get the fairy tale – after all, neither of them was a damsel. And he may not get the perfect happy ending found in literature’s works of romance – after all, a crazy ancient elf wanted to destroy the entire world. But he’d be damned if he wouldn’t have Dorian, no matter where they were or what they were doing. Which he hoped would also become part of this gift he knew the moment had come to give.

“You’re up to something,” Dorian said, eyeing him suspiciously. “You have been _thinking_ again.”

The right side of Cullen’s mouth tipped upward in the half-smile Dorian always told him was the reason he’d fallen so hard for him over games of chess in the garden. “And when did you come to know me so well?” he asked, hand sliding over Dorian’s chest where he purposely tweaked first his right nipple and then his left.

Dorian gasped and melted against him. “No fair. You’re plying me with my biggest weakness.”

“Is it working?” Cullen breathed at the shell of his ear.

Dorian moaned as Cullen’s tongue traced the curve of his ear, then licked a stripe down his neck to his collarbone, where his lips closed and he began to nibble and suck in one of his favorite ways to mark his beloved’s flawless skin.

Dorian clung to Cullen’s broad shoulders as he reached down and pressed his palm firmly into the mage’s erection, causing him to gasp and jump, fingertips digging into flesh in response.

“You cheat,” Dorian panted.

“I’m buttering you up.”

“For?” Dorian asked, mind only half on what Cullen was saying.

“This,” Cullen replied, smoothly dropping to one knee while his hand pulled forth from his pocket a small wooden box carved with a unique heraldry that the former templar himself had designed, specifically intertwining the motif of the Pavus birthright snakes and his own identification as a lion.

Dorian’s jaw landed somewhere in the courtyard far below as Cullen opened the box within which, nestled in royal purple silk, was a ring.

“Dorian Pavus, you’re not going anywhere in this world without me ever again. And so if you will have me, I ask with this ring for your hand in marriage.” He looked into Dorian’s eyes. Saw tears falling unabashedly down his face. Felt a lump forming fast and hard in his own throat. “And,” he continued in a softer voice, “I’m attached to this ring. Where it goes, I go.”

“But what if it’s on my hand and I leave?” the mage asked, voice a little too small for his usual bravado.

“Then I leave, too.”

Dorian sank to his knees in front of Cullen, placed his hands on either side of his face and kissed him softly, earnestly, with so much love poured into it that it wasn’t only the lip-lock that took Cullen’s breath away.

When he pulled away, he searched Cullen’s eyes. “Do you mean to make me even more of a pariah in the halls of the magisterium by cohabiting with the dreadfully improper magister as his husband, in _Tevinter_?”

Cullen nodded. “I most certainly do.”

A smile grew and grew upon Dorian’s face. “You’re sure you want to leave Ferelden?”

Cullen’s grin never wavered. “I want to be with you.” He then became very serious indeed, grasping Dorian’s hands tightly. “I cannot go a day without you in my arms, in my bed, by my side. I don’t care if that takes us into an Age where men can fly among the stars as easily as they can cross Thedas on mounts. Do I wish to leave my homeland? Not entirely. But I never thought I would return when I left as a templar, either.” Cullen closed his eyes and inhaled the uniquely Dorian scent he’d come to find as necessary as his body had once found lyrium to be. “Say yes and I will walk gladly into any future and any land by your side.”

Dorian presented his left hand and breathlessly laughed, “Yes!”

Cullen’s eyes snapped open, the lungful of air he’d been holding whooshing out in relief. He laughed, Dorian laughed some more, and eventually the ring managed to find its way onto Dorian’s finger.

“But…you haven’t one,” Dorian pouted. “Nobody will know you’re mine.”

“Everyone knows I’m yours,” Cullen teased, “for you drape yourself upon me like the richest, most beautiful silk robes.”

“Are you calling me clingy, Commander?”

Cullen laughed out loud as the men rose to their feet. “The ring I gave you is special to me for several reasons, but there was only enough raw material to forge just the one, and even that required assistance.”

“Oh?” Dorian asked, looking down at the band which shimmered a strange combination of colors that resulted in a pearlescent sort of purple.

Nodding, Cullen explained. “Dagna used my lucky coin, folding it together with dawnstone and enchanting it as well.”

“Your…this is your coin? The one from your brother?”

Cullen nodded. “It’s now permanently lucky for us both,” he grinned.

“I can…feel the enchantment,” Dorian breathed. “It’s rather strong. What is it?”

“According to Dagna, it’s the most powerful enchantment of Protection that she can possibly put into such a small thing as this.” Cullen lifted Dorian’s hand and kissed the ring and the finger at the same time. “Now the coin truly will protect you, my love,” he whispered.

“I shall have one fashioned for you.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Not necessary to ensure that no matter where you are, no man or woman will attempt to seduce you?”

Cullen chuckled. “A ring won’t stop that.”

“It will if I put a “I will blast you with a fireball in the face if you so much as look at him” enchantment on it.”

This time Cullen laughed out loud, embracing his husband-to-be and burying his nose in the warm crook of his neck.

“Ahhhh, your nose is cold!” Dorian protested, smacking Cullen wherever his hands could reach.

“I love you, Dorian,” Cullen said firmly, strongly, into his mage’s ear. “I would never have thought it possible ten or more years back, but I do, and I will shout it from the tops of mountains if need be.”

Dorian eyed him. “Well, we _are_ in the mountains right now, you know.” His left eyebrow arched upward into the hair he’d been letting grow longer.

Cullen let go of him, turned and marched to the edge of the wall facing Skyhold’s courtyard and yelled at the top of his lungs, “I love you, Dorian Pavus!”

As various and random people who were awake this early whooped and cheered from all corners, Cullen turned to find Dorian’s normal pallor now resembled that of a bronzed tomato.

“ _Kaffas_! I didn’t think you’d actually do it!”

Cullen laughed heartily. “It’s good to know I can still surprise you after three years.”

“Now everyone knows!” Dorian squeaked.

“It’s not a secret, Dorian.”

“I know, but…you…I mean, I… _festis bei umo canavarum, amatus_.”

“Quite possibly,” Cullen said, having heard this phrase uttered enough through the years to know exactly what it meant. “But I will not hide my love for you in Tevinter, either. Are you certain you’re prepared for the Lion of Ferelden to meet the blood magic-wielding dragons of Tevinter?”

Dorian’s embarrassment turned into a wicked glint in his eyes and an evil smirk. “Oh, more than. Imagine you simply canceling out their magic with a simple gesture, oh, it will be glorious! And Mae is going to adore you to little tiny pieces, and the magisterium will fall apart in shock before the man who dares bring his _male_ spouse to a ball attended by the archon himself.”

Cullen picked up his cup, enjoying the images Dorian’s words had conjured in his mind. He drank the remainder of the now-cold tea down in one swallow, only then to notice how Dorian watched him both thoughtfully and with a softness Cullen held fast to. “What?”

“You have changed so since we met,” Dorian said with a fond smile. “You stumbled over your words whenever you tried flirting with me. Painfully shy, as I recall.”

Chuckling, Cullen nodded. “I fear I was indeed.” He shook his head, put the cup back down and took his fiancé back into his arms. “You empower me, Dorian. I can only hope that once you take your rightful place among your peers, I offer the same to you.”

“You already do, _amatus_ ,” Dorian smiled as their lips met. Eventually they parted and the mage, lips swollen and pink from so much nipping and biting and kissing, said, “Now, as a newly-engaged man, I believe there is a certain protocol I must follow to ensure wedded bliss.”

“Oh? What is this, a Tevinter custom of some kind?”

“No,” Dorian grinned. “Come on, then. Back to bed.”

“What…oh. _Oh_.” Cullen grinned as Dorian took his hand and led them back to the tower loft which had proudly sported a real ceiling for more than two years now. “I think the Inquisitor can wait to be told of our departure for a few more hours.”

“She’ll hate that we’re leaving, you know,” Dorian stated somewhat regretfully. “Until she joins us, eventually, which I’m sure she’ll figure out a way to do.”

“I know,” Cullen replied as they entered his office and headed toward the ladder. “But she’ll love that we’re staying side-by-side.” He reached out, grabbed a handful of Dorian’s ass and squeezed hard and fast.

The mage yelped and swatted at him. “Less talking, more climbing,” he ordered, pointing upwards.

“Yes, sir,” Cullen smirked as he headed up the ladder.

Skyhold had been their home for so long that it felt strange to think of being anywhere else. Corypheus was long-defeated, everyone knew the Dread Wolf’s identity and intent and the only war going on right now was the one Grey Wardens were fighting amongst themselves in the Anderfels.

Cullen and Dorian had been working alongside Josephine, Cassandra and Divine Victoria – Leliana – all that time to figure out how best to stop Solas from executing his horrific plan. They’d kept in close contact with Vivienne, who was working with Fiona to rebuild the circles, and they had reams and reams of paper where Josephine had painstakingly recorded every last detail of the solution they had for keeping Solas from his goal.

Sera was happily flitting about Thedas doing her Red Jenny thing, while Varric had returned to Kirkwall. Hawke, having gone to Weisshaupt to speak with the Grey Wardens after what happened at Adamant and Stroud was lost to the Fade, managed to get out of the Anderfels just as two factions of Wardens began a war that Hawke doubted either side could win. Rumor had it he’d made it back to Fenris’ side and continued helping him in his fight against Tevinter slavers.

The next day when Cullen and Dorian told their friends their good news, after some decent celebrating which was always required for an engagement, that solution, they all agreed, lay in taking the fight somewhere Solas’ wolf had no teeth. And now with both Dorian and Cullen headed back, they knew that with certainty that their choice of that somewhere being Tevinter, had been right all along. Dorian would have power. Cullen would be right in the middle of it all. And the Inquisitor would have a base of operations that nobody in Solas’ world could touch.

The love of two men who lay quietly that night in bed, Cullen fiddling with the ring Dorian wore as they languidly kissed and touched, petted and loved, might have been the one thing Fen’Harel hadn’t anticipated as his downfall.

Thus had stated the ever-romantic Cassandra.

And so it would begin. In one week, Dorian and Cullen would be wed by the southern chantry. In two weeks, they would depart for Tevinter. As soon as they arrived they would be wed by the northern chantry, who would not refuse them for it was against no rule, only societal pressure.

Dorian would take his place physically as a magister, assuming ownership of the entirety of the Pavus family properties.

The elven Inquisitor would be smuggled in as a new “slave.” Her idea. She relished doubling as someone who would help slowly turn the tide _against_ slavery in Tevinter with Cullen and Dorian’s help and, or so she’d heard, the help of both Hawke and Fenris, which she was looking forward to with great gusto.

Josephine would be appointed Tevinter’s new ambassador to Ferelden, giving her leave to pass freely across borders for ‘business’ as needed. She’d already put her few Tevinter contacts to good use and Maevaris was already paving the way for even more associations to form.

Cassandra, Iron Bull and most of his Chargers would remain at Skyhold to command the Inquisition’s forces and continue running quests and jobs for Divine Victoria with the Inquisition’s people there, which also would keep Solas from realizing the true center of their operation, dedicated to its _real_ mission, was now half a world away.

Krem, Michel de Chevin and Donal Sutherland would become the Pavus home’s primary bodyguards, with Chevin commanding the sprawling estate’s soldiers and Krem personally taking on the duty of guarding Cullen should Dorian not be by his side.

It was all set. But there was one more thing to be done, and Dorian found that he was far too excited about it to wait until the morrow. And so as Cullen drowsily enjoyed their cuddling, Dorian could stand it no longer and hopped out of bed as though it’d just been frozen over with one of Vivienne’s epic ice spells.

“What’s happening?” Cullen asked, confused.

“This can’t wait. I was going to…well, tomorrow I had this whole thing I was going to do but…I…the suspense is just _killing_ me.”

“Dorian, you’re making no…” Cullen’s voice trailed off as he took in this completely nude and unquestionably _beautiful_ man, standing next to the bed holding something in his hand that was glowing. “What is that?”

Dorian lithely fell to one knee, holding it up so Cullen could see at last it was a ring. “You asked for my hand, and I said yes,” the mage stated with only the slightest tremor in his voice. “But I have never asked for yours in return.”

“Yes, yes, a thousand times over, yes,” Cullen breathed, scrambling to the edge of the bed on his belly until Dorian’s lips captured his for endless moments. When at last they parted, Cullen held out his left hand and watched as Dorian slid the ring onto his finger. “What is this made of?”

“Starmetal,” Dorian replied proudly.

“What? Where on earth did you get that?”

“Oh, the Inquisitor has her ways,” he smiled. “It came to me when I recalled you telling me that you didn’t care if wanting to keep me in your arms took us into an Age where men could fly among the stars as easily as they can cross Thedas on mounts. I knew at once exactly what I wanted your ring made of.”

“You remembered that?”

“I’m going to be soppy now, so bear with me.” Cullen grinned. “I remember everything and I always will, because this? Between us? Is not anything I ever dreamed I would be so privileged to have in my life. I treasure each and every moment. And this ring you now wear will remind you of that.”

“Always,” Cullen nodded, pulling his lover back into bed and making sure Dorian knew how very much he felt the same.

Several hours later, as they dozed on and off fully sated in each other’s arms, Cullen asked, “Shall I shout it from the walls again?”

Dorian huffed out a sleepy laugh. “Wait until we’re home in Tevinter. We have a high balcony that will make your voice echo off the hundred pillars themselves.”

Cullen snuggled closer into his lover. “Okay.”

Dorian smiled against Cullen’s chest. “You’re magical, you know that? You make me believe anything is possible.”

“Anything _is_ possible, Dorian. You need only believe.”

Dorian closed his eyes. “And I finally do.”


End file.
